Not A Cat Person
by DetectiveLayton92
Summary: Thor brings home a cat. In retaliation, Loki brings home a dog. Chaos ensues. Takes place before "Thor," my first story, rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I wrote this before ever seeing the movies, so forgive me for any inaccuracies. Lots of symbolism, feel free to ask me in the reviews!

Chapter 1

In the early hours of the morn, Loki entered his study, intent on finally getting some work done. With countless interruptions during the past few days, from banquets to schmoozing with generals and the like, Loki hadn't a spare moment to even think about work. He had letters to send, people to boss around. He shut the door behind him, waving a hand in the general direction to seal it, guaranteeing a silent morning. He sat down at his large, ornately carved mahogany desk, the light from the rising suns flowing gently through the drapes. The silence was comforting, which was surprising since Thor was also an early riser. But, it was his only chance to get things accomplished.

He shuffled some papers and straightened the pile of books before diving in. He had to organize before working—it helped clear his mind. However, he noticed that there were strange marks on some of the documents—brown, dusty circles in a chaotic pattern on the desk. "What the...?" he breathed. He brushed one, rubbing it off, and then, slightly disgusted, reached for a handkerchief to wipe his hands on. The maids and cleaning staff must have bypassed this room completely. He shrugged it off, still slightly irked that his work was sullied. Exhaling, he procured a new sheet of stationary and blotting paper, and popped the cork on the inkwell. He dipped the pen into the jar, blotting and beginning salutations in that signature cursive hand of his:

 _General Almqvist,_

 _I apologize profusely for having missed the Honourary Alliance Ball. Another pressing matter came up, one that I could not reschedule. In the future, I shall—_

He looked up from his writing. A strange sensation emerged in his legs, as if something soft and fuzzy brushed against them. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, but then abruptly a creature leapt up on the table, knocking over the ink well, spilling the black liquid all over the newly written letter and desk.

Loki shot up with a gasp, his chair rocketing backwards, hands in the air for fear of even a single drop of ink landing on his precious tunic. "What in the Nine Realms is this?" he exclaimed.

The rather large animal mewled, walking gracefully around the ink spill, and then sat down and stared at Loki with calm indifference in its emerald eyes, as if it had meant to do that. It licked a paw and combed its long black hair nonchalantly.

Loki grumbled under his breath, trying unsuccessfully to shoo the creature away. Surely Thor had something to do with this. "Brother!" he shouted, loud enough for the whole palace to have heard his disdain.

A few minutes later, the blonde Asgardian knocked at the door, and Loki removed the spell, allowing his brother in.

"What is the meaning of this?" he said, motioning to the cat who still sat upon the desk, unblinking and aloof. "That writing desk was over two centuries old, and now it has a stain, and I'll have to redo all those papers because of this, this—"

"Cat?"

"—Satanic mongrel," Loki finished. "Why is it in my study, and where did it come from?"

"I'll have you know, he's mine," said Thor, and stepped toward the cat with outstretched arms. Its disposition suddenly changed, and it bounded off the table and wove in between its owner's legs, purring softly.

Loki was astounded. "Why, I never. You didn't strike me as a cat person."

"Perhaps you'd do well showing a little affection for something," said Thor, bending down and scratching the feline behind the ears.

"Well, don't let that thing near my sight again, or it'll be a skin hanging on my wall."

"Gods, Loki, it's only a cat." Thor hmphed in discontent, picked up his furry friend, and left.

Loki looked once more at the mess it had caused and sighed. He was sure he knew some sort of spell to lift the stain out of the leather inlays—it would take a mere flick of the wrist. But no amount of magic could bring back the sappy letters he had spent hours writing. Not like he cared; he only did it so that he wouldn't piss anyone off for missing their _beloved_ galas and their _precious_ weddings.

Through the following days, the cat, whom he now knew was called Fritjof, showed up in far more places than Loki would have liked. It did not attempt to hide its dislike for him, and blatantly trampled him, his things, and even scratched him, given the chance. Thor never seemed to notice, and this infuriated Loki. So, he began to devise a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He was going to get a dog.

But not just any dog. He was going to have a large, sturdy, menacing breed, perhaps of wolf descent, with a snarl frightening enough and a bark loud enough to scare off that annoying cat and perhaps even offer some protection. It wasn't like he needed it, but was an added bonus, nonetheless.

Although, there were indeed several factors to consider. Where would one acquire a dog? How much would it cost, and how would you go about feeding, watering, or grooming it? Should it be a young pup, in order to train it right from the beginning, or an older dog, one who has already learnt all the tricks?

Loki decided he would just have to go to the pet shoppe and see for himself.

There was only one place he knew of that specialized in these kinds of things. It was less of a shop, really, but an open-air courtyard and breeding facility. Dogs were free to run amok in their large, grassy, fenced-in areas, and were grouped together by breed, size, and age. Each individual lot had a communal watering and feeding trough, as if they were cattle, but the dogs did not seem to mind.

Loki's carriage halted in front of the main office—really just a shack with a desk and a bookshelf—large and intimidating in contrast with the ordinary property. This was still rather new to him. He had never ventured out from the palace much when he was younger—he was still rather young—and never had a reason to. His flashy entrance garnered some stares from the common folk, who had likely never seen a speck of gold in their lives.

He didn't need to call the carriage to wait, and once inside, inquired to the woman behind the desk about the dogs they had available. She seemed rather bored with her job, as she was reading a book, presumably off the shelf in the corner, but immediately perked up at the silky sound of the young prince's voice.

"Oh-! M-may I help you?" she stuttered. It wasn't every day that royalty stepped in asking questions and such.

"Hello, I was wondering if I may see what large dogs you have today," he asked, being as courteous and patient as possible.

"Oh, of course!" She smiled awkwardly, her cheeks a rosy red, and stood to lead Loki out to the grounds. "Right this way."

She escorted him to the first group of canines. "These are our older dogs, mostly Lundehund mixes."

He scanned the group, unimpressed with the selection. There were a handful of golden colored dogs, but they didn't have the right appearance. They were too… _cute,_ with their small muzzles and large, black eyes. He progressed to the next lot.

These dogs were Lapphunds, mere patchy brown balls of fur, romping around while their mother lay on her side, sunning herself. Loki shook his head, still not impressed. A pup was too much trouble, and he would never trust his staff to raise such a delicate creature, since he hadn't the time.

The woman led him to a different side of the lot, where the young, fully grown dogs were. In this specific area, only one lay there, its head on its front paws, surveying its kingdom. It was some sort of wolf, perhaps mixed with a Jämthund, and had a shiny white coat with grey tufts on its ears and tail. Its ice blue eyes almost seemed white in the light. Something about him, perhaps his angular features, reminded him of Fenrir, so long ago….

Loki stood at the fence, gazing at the majestic animal as it stood up and sauntered over to him, its presence powerful even in the massive space. He sniffed of Loki's trousers through the slatted fence, and seemed to approve of him. Loki knelt before the creature, holding out a hand to be sniffed.

"I think he likes you," said the woman.

Loki nodded. This was the one.

After signing papers and giving more than enough for compensation, he led his new companion on a lead made of leather into the carriage. He had had some difficulty with the name, struggling to choose between Einar, meaning "one who fights alone," or Erland, meaning "outsider" or "foreigner." He ultimately chose Trygve, which means "trusted one." He felt this was an appropriate name for a wolf, having shared a bond with the creature when he first laid eyes upon it.

The palace guards looked a bit confused at Loki, but nonetheless let him through. He let the dog loose to let it explore its new home. Within a few moments, his brother called.

"Why is there a dog in here?" he roared, stomping into the foyer with Fritjof in his arms, the canine following at his heels.

"It's my new pet," said Loki, patting the dog on the head. "Trygve, meet Thor and Fritjof."

Upon making eye contact, Fritjof hissed at the dog, who growled in response. "I thought if you are allowed to have an animal companion, then I shall as well." Loki grinned, knowing full well that dogs and cats simply do not mix. Trygve sniffed of Thor's trousers, and opened its mouth wide and bit down, enough to elicit a yelp from the seemingly indestructible prince, but not enough to draw blood.

Thor took a step away from Trygve, who was still eyeing him like a piece of meat. "Fine. You can keep the dog. But keep it away from Fritjof. I don't know how well it's been trained."

"Gods, brother, it's merely a dog," said Loki mockingly. He gave a smirk as his brother walked away.

 _Oh, how your tune has changed, brother,_ Loki thought. _We shall see what dinner will bring this evening._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

That evening, the waitstaff signaled that it was time for supper in the main dining hall. Usually, Loki had taken to eating alone in his chambers, bored with the social gaiety that comes with family dinners. However, they had guests over, as it was Sunday (a tradition of this broken family), and he would show up, if for nothing but to see his plan into action.

He sat down at the north end of the massive dining table, leaving the end seat for his brother, as was custom. Sif sat down next to Loki, followed by Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral. On the south end of the table sat Odin and their mother Frigga, and—was that Baldr sitting at the far end, with his wife Nanna? No, it couldn't be…. There were other aunts and uncles and cousins and distant relatives, to fill the empty seats, but Loki hadn't met them before, and he simply couldn't care less.

As the meal commenced, Loki pulled out a small device from his breast pocket, a carved wooden thing with golden inlays, and put it to his lips, blowing softly, the sound unaudible to anyone else. Soon, he heard the light clickety-clack of nails on the floor, and sure enough, Trygve came prancing up to Loki's seat. He took a sip of mead, pretending not to notice the dog. This was all part of his plan, and he smirked slightly against his glass. Little did he know Fritjof was also under the table, sitting stoically by Thor, staring bullets into Trygve. The dog began to growl at the feline, who glared in return, nearly ready to pounce.

Nonchalantly, Loki reached a hand down to calm the dog, but he missed completely. The growling had also ceased. Confused, he looked down, but did not see his pet anywhere. Looking up, his brother had a wicked grin on his face, one perhaps rivaling his own. He watched as his brother took bits of food—roasted ham, to be precise—and held it under the table, never looking away from Loki. What was he doing, indeed? Fritjof couldn't possibly…

When it dawned on him, his brother's smirk became wider. His precious hound, whom he had grown terribly fond of, was being fed scraps by the _cat-lover._ With any more, he would become overweight, and simply not scary enough to deter that damned cat! This was—this was a travesty! Completely unacceptable!

"How dare you feed my pet food, of which he doesn't need!" said Loki, standing up, his chair shooting from behind him. The conversation at the table froze, all eyes cast upon him.

"I was merely saving the staff some trouble by cleaning off my plate," said Thor calmly.

Loki took a deep breath. "Very well. If you'll excuse me." He nodded to the rest of the table. "Trygve, kennel!" he ordered, snapping his fingers in the direction of his chambers. The dog obeyed, whimpering with its tail between its legs. He followed, deliberately knocking his chair over in the process.

He felt like breaking something—an expensive looking urn on a pedestal seemed the best candidate—or maybe even killing something. His fists tightened and his scowl deepened. Oh, how his brother infuriated him! Thor always had to have what Loki deserved. The throne, the girls, and now his only companion. He ushered the dog into its kennel and then stomped off to his chambers. He slammed the massive door shut behind him, and with a snap of his fingers, all the lanterns and candles were lit. He turned around and stopped dead in his tracks.

There it was. That damned cat.

It lay there on his bed, staring menacingly in his direction, probably shedding black fur all over the forest green satin sheets. He would have to call the maids, order them to clean this room, twice over, and even then, he wasn't sure that he could ever sleep in this room again. He simply wasn't a cat person.

 _Why must this creature follow me?_ he asked himself. _How did it even get in here? Much less arrive before me?_ He stopped and held his arm up to his face, a sneeze impending. Luckily it subsided. _Of course, now I'm allergic to the damn thing._ Loki took one quick step towards the cat, and he let out an awful hiss, firmly claiming the territory as his own. Loki slowed his approach tenfold, for fear of being mauled once again.

"Shh…" Loki found himself cooing to the animal, which temporarily disgusted him as he neared cautiously, step by anxious step, until he could lay a hand gingerly upon the creature's back. This time Fritjof did not hiss. His coat was strangely soft, and he stroked it gently. Fritjof did not recoil under his touch, as he had initially suspected, and instead, seemed to be enjoying the attention, letting out a soft purr.

Loki retracted his arm rapidly, for he could feel the vibrations emanating from the cat's belly, and thought he might be hurting it. But as soon as he pulled away, the low rumbling stopped, and Fritjof looked at him expectantly. He had never owned a cat before, and, taking this as a sign of content, resumed petting the creature, even sitting down next to it on the edge of the bed.

"Perhaps you're not as bad as I thought," he said to the cat, and did not expect an answer.

Swiftly and quietly, he left to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of milk for his newfound companion.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After dinner had finished, and the awkwardness absolved for a bit, Thor left to find Fritjof. From the short time he had spent with the cat, he had noticed his tendency for exploration, and frequently found him in odd places, such as out in the courtyard sunning himself near the poppies, or the maid's quarters under a stack of linens, or even the throne room once, which had nearly landed Thor in a world of trouble, since that day his father had needed the room for some important business or other. It was these times he thought the cat's name fitting: Fritjof, stealer of peace. But he was fond of the cat, regardless of what misfortune he caused.

Thor had created a sort of mental map for Fritjof's favorite places, and set out in a specific order when looking for him, clearing each room methodically until he was found. The first spot was his chambers, but a search there proved fruitless. The next place was in the foyer, but there again, no luck. Sometimes he hid in between the sofa cushions in the great room, but he was not there, either. The only other place Thor thought to look would be back in the dining hall.

He looked under the tables, in all the chairs, even in the kitchen and in all the cupboards, but Fritjof was nowhere to be seen. Thor, who was not one to worry, began to feel nervous. What if that dreaded dog got hold of him? He had developed quite the bond with the cat, and he would rather relinquish his precious Mjolnir to his greatest enemy than let any harm come to Fritjof. He knew he must locate the cat, and soon.

He rushed back down the hall from where he came, and passed Trygve in his kennel. He stopped, kneeling in front of the creature who was whimpering for attention. He held his hand out, and was greeted with a sniff and a lick, and no bite.

"Let's get you out of there," said Thor quietly. "You've done nothing wrong."

He looked both ways before he unlocked the kennel, and not a moment later, the dog jumped out of the cage and tackled him, knocking him to the ground and kissing him, grateful to be released from his cage. Thor let out a hearty chuckle, trying helplessly to push the beast off him. "All right, boy, down." Trygve obeyed instantly, and Thor was impressed. Although Loki may have been a little excessive earlier at dinner, he was not without determination, and it showed in his pet.

Thor stood up, wiping his face with a kerchief, and then ruffed the dog's ears lovingly. Just then, the door to Loki's private chambers opened, and Fritjof scampered out, followed by the man himself, an empty bowl in his hand. The brothers looked at each other, Thor with wickedness and Loki with humiliation.

Thor grinned. "Ohoho, do my eyes deceive me, brother? Have you taken a lover?"

Loki scoffed, brushing off his tunic. "Pfft, says the man who is getting all-too friendly with the very dog who bit him. Have you forgotten that it made you cry like a child?"

"You locked up your own pet over a few extra scraps of food," said Thor.

"He cannot become overweight if he is to be my guard dog," said Loki, as if he had control over his brother. Fritjof sauntered over to his owner, and although he passed by Trygve, he did not hiss or claw at him.

Loki noticed this. "Seems they tolerate each other."

Thor nodded in agreement. Perhaps they could learn a lesson from their companions. If such a relationship could exist between polar opposites in the animal kingdom, then surely it could last in the human realm as well?

"Brother," said Thor, and a look of seriousness fell over him. "Shall we call for a truce?"

"Truce? For what?"

"If I should swear upon all of Asgard that I shall not go against your wishes regarding Trygve," he said, "Then you shall swear not to harm Fritjof in any way, and shall not go near him until I permit." He extended his hand.

Loki considered this. He would regain control of Trygve—no more scraps from the table—but also, he would not get to spend time with the feline, which he had grown fond of. However, in the future, when the scratching and the biting and the feeding had been long forgotten, perhaps he could spend some quality time with Fritjof, if his brother allowed.

He shook his brother's hand. It was a deal.

As they prepared to leave, they looked around for their respective pets, and saw them in the corner. Fritjof lay by Trygve's side, the cat curled up in a ball and the dog's head resting on its paws, huddled for warmth and fast asleep.

"…Cats have a mind of their own, you know," said Loki with a grin, after a while. "If he comes near me, does that make the agreement moot, or am I still at fault?"

Thor chuckled. "Shut up."


End file.
